


Pregaming

by ZaliaChimera



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Canon Asexual Character, Fluff, Foreshadowing, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, Tension, pre-archives, you will pry their pre canon friendship from my cold dead fingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 19:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19409857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: Jon is spending far too much time stressing over taking over the position of Head Archivist. He's really making it much more of a big deal than it needs to be. Tim helps him to relax.





	Pregaming

“Tim? I thought- what are you doing?”

Tim grins as he sinks down onto his knees in front of Jon’s chair. He rests a hand on Jon’s knee and looks up at him. Jon has dark smudges beneath his eyes, like he hasn’t slept well in a couple of days, but the raised eyebrow that eloquently conveys ‘seriously?!’ towards Tim is exactly the same as normal.

“What does it look like, Jon?”

“It looks like you’re trying to get us embroiled in a hearing regarding inappropriate workplace relations.”

He looks like he’s about to start reciting chapter and verse of the employee handbook so Tim leans forward and rests his chin against Jon’s knee. His gaze darts to the front of Jon’s trousers, and he feels the little tremor that runs through him.

“It’s nine pm Jon,” Tim says. “Even the hardcore academics have gone home. It’s just us here. Well, and maybe Elias but he’s up in his office so he’s not going to find us.”

“Oh god, is it really that late?” Jon slumps back in the chair and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Christ. No wonder the words were starting to blur.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Tim says. “You’ve been wound up tighter than a pocket watch since you got told you got the Archive job. You need to take a break. This had better not be the kind of hours you’re expecting me to keep when we move down there.”

Jon snorts and shakes his head. “No. I would hate to cut into your valuable flirting time.” Tim nips at his knee gently in response to that. “I just- there’s a lot to organise. I want to be prepared for when I start.”

“And you’ll fuck up if you keep going while you’re half asleep,” Tim points out. “You need to relax.”

Jon rolls his eyes and fixes Tim with a dust-dry look. “And your solution is a blowjob. Really?”

Tim shrugs, gives his most charming smile, and slides a hand along the inside of Jon’s thigh. “It’s worked before.”

Jon turns the most fascinating shade of red, his eyes darting away to stare at the office wall above Tim’s head. It had only been a couple of times, the two of them warm and just tipsy enough to avoid awkward conversations because Tim doesn’t really do relationships, and Jon doesn’t really do sex, but he sure as fuck unwinds prettily when there’s lips around his cock and honestly, the man is the most touch-starved person Tim has ever met. 

“Are you _sure_?” Jon asks. He always does. It’s sort of sweet, that he’s so careful, except Tim is pretty sure, from what he’s got out of him, that it’s mainly because he’s expecting Tim to suddenly demand more than Jon is willing or comfortable with giving.

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure, Jon.” He doesn’t push himself into things he doesn’t want to do. Not sexually anyway. He likes Jon, thinks he needs to unwind, and Tim knows he’s good with his mouth.

“Alright,” Jon says, and then smiles and strokes fingers through Tim’s hair. “Thank you.”

“What are friends for?” 

Tim unfastens Jon’s trousers and Jon raises his hips to let Tim drag them down for easier access, and because he knows Jon will go spare if he gets cum on them and has to catch the tube home.

He wraps a hand around Jon’s cock, and really, it’s sort of a shame that Jon doesn’t want to do more because his cock is great, and gives it a stroke or two. Jon shivers at the touch, lets out an audible huff of breath that trails off into a moan when Tim leans in and wraps his lips around the head of Jon’s dick.

He’s soft and firm in his mouth. The weight rests against his lips, and Jon always tastes clean and faintly soapy. He sucks at him, lapping at Jon’s skin, and feels him start to harden, forcing his lips wider. He curls his tongue around him, traces it along the veins he can feel and teases at the head. He rests his hands against Jon’s thighs, feels the way the muscles tighten, and a quick glance shows him that his fingers are digging into the arms of the chair, twisting into the fabric.

There is something beautiful about winding Jonathan Sims up like this. Grasping all of that stress and control, and pulling it taut, _twisting_ until it snaps. He can feel it building in the way that Jon’s knees lock, and his knuckles turn white, and in the soft pretty noises that he makes and tries to conceal.

He shifts forward, taking in more of his cock until it nearly touches the back of his throat, and swallows around it. One hands he trails down the crease of Jon’s thigh and then wraps his fingers around his balls, toys with them as he licks a stripe along the length of him. His gaze flicks up towards Jon’s face. His eyes are closed, lips parted and pink, and his tongue dips out between them. He’s never very demonstrative, but his expressions, god, Tim could drink them in for hours. It’s like he’s cracked open a a seashell and found a pearl.

He redoubles his efforts, teases at the slit at the tip of Jon’s cock, and the foreskin, and _finally_ , finally there, that moan that he gives, low and breathy and hungry. Tim digs his fingers into Jon’s thigh, and sucks hard, punctuating it with the scrape of his teeth. 

Everything in Jon goes taut and then he’s coming, biting his lip to stop from crying out. Tim drinks him down, keeps up with using his lips and tongue on him to wring every last drop from his pliant body. The tension slowly seeps out of him. His thigh relaxes beneath Tim’s hand as surely as his cock softens in his mouth, and when he finally pulls away and looks, really looks, Jon seems halfway to falling asleep already. 

Tim drags the back of his hand over his mouth and then leans in to tuck Jon back in and pulls his pants up. Jon makes a soft noise of protest and Tim squeezes his knee. “Come on Jon. Let’s- let’s get you out of here.”

Jon opens his eyes slowly, and he gives Tim a bleary look. “I-“

He stands up and flashes Jon a grin. “You’re gonna sleep tonight I bet.”

Jon lets out a slow breath and returns the smile. His smiles are rare things, although not as scarce as some people seem to think. Honestly, the guy is uptight and prickly, but he’s not that bad as long as you know what you’re doing.

“Yes. Yes, I rather think I will.”

“Mission accomplished,” Tim says. He pushes himself to his feet and offers Jon a hand. Jon takes it, and lets Tim pull him up. 

“Thank you, Tim,” Jon says, and while he might sound dry, Tim can hear the gratitude and knows it’s genuine.

“Any time,” Tim replies. “I do mean that.” He glances over towards the door and then back at Jon who is looking a little shaky. idiot probably skipped lunch again. Or possibly Tim is just that good with his mouth. “Want to get a drink?”

Jon blinks, and for a second looks like he’s planning to sit down and go back to work, which, well, Tim’s jaw isn’t aching so Jon can work ’til past midnight again. Then he reaches for the coat slung over the back of his chair. “Alright. I think a stiff drink couldn’t hurt.”

“Great. Let me grab my bag and then we can go.” Something occurs to him and he gives a soft laugh. “Hey, could be the last drink before we move downstairs. Can you still come for drinks if you’re technically my boss?”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Nothing’s really going to change. I know I can trust you and Sasha to get the work done. And Martin- will be there too.”

“I could start calling you ‘boss’. How does that sound?”

“Please feel free to _not_.” Jon slings his bag over his shoulder. “Shall we go?”

Tim claps him on the shoulder. “Sure thing, boss.”


End file.
